


Not a Soul, a Bond

by Nyriad



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Healthy Relationships, Internal Conflict, Maxsole, Med-X Addiction, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension, Spoilers, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyriad/pseuds/Nyriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corrine Ljónhart was a Floridian hydro-geologist pre-war. Several days before the bombs dropped, she flew to Boston to attend an earth science convention. After escaping to vault 111, she woke two hundred years later into a world of dust and ash. She survived the wasteland instead of withering in its tainted soil and kindled the spark for a chance to destroy the Institute. People like them were the reason she’d lost everything prior. The Brotherhood of Steel offered her a sense of belonging. Over time, she drew the esteemed Elder's attention. Maxson never believed that a soul could be "forged from Eternal Steel", but a bond between two people just might.</p>
<p>Takes place shortly after Blind Betrayal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Stripes

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to dip behind the Elder’s professional and rigid demeanor to reveal more of what goes on within his own head. Corrine is someone who’s going to start chipping the mold he was made to fill. Her grandfather was Icelandic, hence her name: a mashup of "ljón" - lion, and "hjarta" - heart. She’s mixed race with roots from Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic, and Iceland. Do hope you enjoy.

       Maxson knew he’d be a fool not to notice Paladin Corrine Ljónhart had caught on to his interest in her. The tense threads between them were close to breaking since she managed to subdue his fury and his desire to execute Paladin Danse. After that incident, he had paced in his office for a good hour, thinking over what she’d said to him.  
      _“Remember what fate handed me! I was flung into a world I was never meant to be in, no different than Danse being given a life and a conscience he was never supposed to have. You cannot fault him for it.”_  
       He could either be a self-righteous ass and stick to the doctrine which had been ingrained into his mind for his two decades of life, or question it--and Corrine was certainly making him question it. It wasn’t easy, but what good was a leader if he didn’t listen to those who followed and believed in him? His parents and caretakers had conditioned him to become an Elder and not much else. He was the last of his lineage and carrying the name of a man who founded the Brotherhood of Steel. A burden that was dropped on his shoulders without anyone asking him what he wanted first.  
      He realized Corrine Ljónhart could be everything he wanted in a partner. Rough and tumble charm, determination, cleverness, and a strong voice. She developed a sense of pride and belonging within the Brotherhood and was in better shape since surviving vault 111. He noted the significant change over the last several months firsthand. She wasn’t afraid to lock horns with him, either. She’d kept him from making a terrible decision--taking the life of Paladin Danse. Corrine saw him as human when so few did.  
      Arthur never recalled having much of a preference in his taste for women because he’d barely had the time, but her deep brown wily locks begged to be touched and twirled in his fingers. Corrine’s dusky tan skin was a color he grew quite fond of. Her cheekbones were lightly dappled with faded freckles from her time out under the Commonwealth sun, and her eyes could shift from cheery warmth to a burning void in seconds.  
It became difficult to resist watching her. From where he was on the upper deck of the Prydwen in the laboratory, he kept casting a glance over the walkway railing down into the armor bay, watching her at work. Her aptitude for repairing and modifying her arsenal was impressive and admirable. Even the terse Proctor Ingram liked to converse with her about the Brotherhood’s weaponry and ask for her input.  
     Head Scribe Neriah was reporting her most recent findings from the blood samples she’d obtained from the Commonwealth’s wildlife. Thanks to Corrine, she was nearing the completion of a serum that would upgrade their standard issue stimpaks. As Neriah explained the process of analyzing the samples and running the equipment Maxson was still familiarizing himself with, his gaze kept drifting towards the armor bay.  
 At present, Corrine appeared to be running a diagnostic system check on her power armor. She was crouched down on the suit’s right side and reading the screen on her Pip-Boy, its cord plugged into an output jack. Then her eyes flicked up above the deck and out to the railing.  
     His admiration hadn’t been discreet enough, because those rich brown eyes of hers locked on his. He saw the corner of her mouth smirk and she broke contact first, shifting focus to her worktable and sorting through her tool kit. He brought his own attention back to Scribe Neriah, he had barely missed a single word she said.  
     “I should be able to get these upgraded stimpaks in the hands of all our soldiers within two weeks. But I might be able to cut it down to one if Paladin Ljónhart would be willing to lend a hand again. I can always count on her to bring what I need.” The woman spoke as she looked over her inventory sheet on a clipboard and circled several items in pencil for her own reference.  
     “I’ll speak with her on the matter. I’m sure she’ll be available to help you. Thank you for your time.” After she had replied in kind, he continued making his rounds. Proctor Ingram had sent him a terminal message this morning about a short briefing on their need for a beryllium agitator to get Liberty Prime up and moving off its power supply. Of course, he was headed to where Corrine was working. Another excuse for them to admire each other from a distance. They’d both had time to cool off since she’d convinced him to exile Danse.  
     Brotherhood members saluted him as he passed them by on his short walk to the armor bay. Maxson approached Proctor Ingram as she stood at her workstation and reminded an initiate that _no_ , goggles _did not_ suffice as adequate protection when welding.  
     “You use proper safety gear and a mask or I’ll send you down to Inventory for the rest of the week. Clear? Dismissed.” Ingram finished her scolding before turning her attention to the Elder.  
     “’Afternoon, sir. You read my update on Liberty Prime, I take it?” She inquired and unrolled a map of the Commonwealth over an empty space on the table.  
     “Yes. You mentioned it's located at the Mass Fusion Building.” He replied while glancing up and over to the other side of the workshop. Corrine was currently assigned to bay four, where Danse had stationed his power armor prior. He noted she was finally spray-painting the three red stripes that marked her new rank onto the left gauntlet of her suit with a stencil. She initially objected to replacing Danse and had argued that he should still be with them. The whole incident still left an acrid taste in his mouth, but it made him feel better to see she was embracing the promotion.  
     “Yes. I’m near positive there’s an agitator in their facility and intact. I doubt anyone would want to pry one out of a machine for profit. Since you assigned Paladin Ljónhart to help me reconstruct Liberty Prime, I figured we’d send her out with a team of knights to secure the part and fly them back on two vertibirds. And I’ll be going with. You cleared me for field duty, after all.” Proctor Ingram suggested and pointed to the location on the map. He turned his gaze from the Paladin and nodded.  
     “I won’t argue with that. Ljónhart would like to have you along for the ride. Field Scribes have forwarded that no one’s currently occupying the structure. After a rooftop landing, secure the entire building. There could be mountains of data we can salvage from their intact terminals and filing cabinets. Old plans, blueprints, work logs--Mass Fusion was one of many facilities at peak of nuclear technology Pre-War.”  
     “I’ll speak with Captain Kells and have two ‘birds cleared. Thank you, Elder.”  
     He and Ingram continued to converse for the next ten minutes over reports on the Prydwen’s new fusion plant, it’s coolant supply, and overall performance. But in the midst of it, he glanced over to Corrine’s armor bay to find that she was leaning her front against her worktable while reaching up for a set of tools hanging from the mounted pegboard. Maxson realized her backside looked a little _too_ good in her dark officer’s uniform.  
     There was no mistaking Corrine’s body language. She was teasing him and it didn’t help his nerves that she was so damned attractive. When Danse first recruited her, he had always thought she was pleasing on the eyes. She’d clipped the hair on the sides of her head short a couple weeks ago and it suited her well. Not an undercut or mohawk, but when she french-braided those curls or put them up in a ponytail like she was wearing now it was taxing not to look at her.  
He maintained his usual serious disposition and finished his conversation with Proctor Ingram. Perhaps a little payback was in order. Maxson rounded Proctor Ingram’s workshop and approached bay four. Corrine had the helmet of her power armor on her desk turned upside down and appeared to be cleaning the inside with a damp paper towel. The woman looked over her shoulder when she had the inkling he was walking towards her and smiled.  
     “Elder Maxson,” She turned from her desk and saluted him. The subtle song-like accent she carried contrasted sharply against the rough tones some of his soldiers spoke in.  
     “Paladin Ljónhart. Good to see you’ve painted your stripes. I take it you’re settling into your rank?” He returned the gesture and began inspecting the T-60 suit resting in its station. As always, the armor was in good condition. The joints and moving parts were all glistening with fresh oil.  
     “I suppose so.” Corrine replied and set the helmet right side up, cleaning the front visor and working away any wasteland dust that gathered in the seams between glass and metal. The undertone of resentment still lingered in her voice, however. He knew she was still unhappy with him about their argument over Danse.  
     “ _Regardless_ of what happened, you were still on track for the promotion. The unexpected events that transpired only accelerated your rank. It may not serve as much comfort, but that’s the truth of it.” Maxson walked towards her slowly, hands clasped behind his back until he stopped no more than three feet from her. Any knight, scribe, or initiate that passed them by minded themselves for the most part. The noise of power tools and the low rumble of the Prydwen’s engines made it harder to eavesdrop.  
     “As pleased as I am to hear you find me so competent, it's a shame you still have a single Paladin.” Corrine chided him subtly. She stopped working and leaned against her desk. Such casual body language irked him, and yet he let it slide with her. She could have a smoldering gaze when she wanted to, and never broke eye contact with him. Intimidating as Maxson could be, the Paladin never flinched.  
     “It is. But I’d rather not discuss that outside my office.” He deflected the subtle jab, not wanting to sour her mood any further.  
     “As you say.” A snarky smile formed on the Paladin’s lips and she picked up her helmet. Corrine walked around him and latched it into place between the shoulders of her power armor. To his mild relief, she seemed to be in better spirits than a few weeks ago.  
     “How are you holding up, anyhow?” She asked while attaching a new headlamp and glanced over at him. It was a question he’d rarely been asked, and she was no doubt referring to the aftereffects from finding out Danse had been a synth. After all, he’d been a trusted soldier and a friend.  
     “I’m fine, though I’m grateful for your consideration.” It was a half-truth and the Elder could have sworn he played the lie off smoothly, yet Paladin Ljónhart was in no way convinced.  
     “Ah huh. Of _course_ you are.” She muttered, standing on a stool with a wrench in hand to tighten a few bolts on the underside of the T-60’s right shoulder guard. She knew Maxson was anything but. There was a shadow beneath his eyes that hinted at restless nights and one too many drinks.  
     “Excuse me, Paladin?” Maxson’s voice lowered almost to a growl. He realized his error the moment he finished the sentence. Corrine stopped adjusting the headlamp on the helmet and stepped down from the stool she’d been standing on. There was a rather cocksure smile on her face, though subdued. The woman walked towards him until she was no more than a foot. Dangerously close.  
     “I don’t believe you. You’re not alright. But I suppose you’ll either talk about it when you feel like doing so,” and she leaned in, closing the already intimate space between them, “or you can let it kill you _slowly_.”  
Maxson would have reprimanded her right there had she not been so right. Just when he thought Corrine couldn’t be anymore venturesome, she proved her ovaries were twice the size. _Just like Sarah Lyons, only she’s got more of a mouth_ , he thought as the Paladin saluted him and walked away. The entire time, she knew the Elder was staring at her backside. Corrine confirmed exactly what she’d suspected and it made her grin. He allowed her to talk back to her superior. Not a lapse in judgement, but because he valued her opinion. There was much he could learn from her.


	2. Cheeky Minx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks much to the readers who've left positive feedback and kudos on the first entry! Chapter two includes more conversation, and my interpretation of Maxson acting a little more like a 20 year old who's questioning what he's been taught like the rest of us do as we grow into adults.

     Throughout the entire day, Corrine aimed to distract the Elder every chance possible. Her moves were subtle and hard for anyone else to catch but him. Any time he was near her, it was always a shift in her gait or brief eye contact. To her pleasant surprise, he placed himself on her level.

     Down at the Boston Airport below the Prydwen, a vertibird was undergoing routine maintenance checks before its next supply drop. Maxson was supervising the inspection as a knight-captain instructed his initiates through the procedure. Corrine was checking in with Proctor Ingram and Professor Scara at Liberty Prime’s command console. It was a cool February afternoon with a nip in the wind and a grey sky.

     “Once we acquire the agitator, we’ll run a final diagnostic and Liberty Prime will be ready to face the Institute.” The professor said when glancing up from readings on her terminal. It amazed Corrine that the woman still looked fresh-pressed and tidy after the countless weeks she’d put into the project. Scara had barely asked for anything in return, and her devotion reminded the Paladin of her own career pre-war. Maybe one day her expertise in groundwater conservation would be needed at some point. A part of her longed for analyzing water samples and studying rock formations again, but she certainly didn’t miss battling beside her peers with the Floridian Government over Everglades restoration rising sea levels.

     “Good to hear. Professor, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve helped us achieve. I imagine you’ll return to Diamond City afterward. Should we have another project for you later on, would you be interested in working with us again?” The Corrine inquired. Scara looked up from her terminal once more and nodded her head.

     “You’re welcome. And yes, I’ll greatly consider lending a hand again -- if Doctor Duff lets me. She’d prefer that I’m not away for so long.” Scara replied as she pulled a carton of cigarettes from her lab coat pocket and opened it. Corrine politely distanced herself from the professor and leaned against the balcony railing of Prime’s command console. The scent of tobacco and menthol was never one she liked.

     “You’re kidding me. I’ve still got a low-fuel warning for the left engine on the console, Sir. We just refilled it.” The Paladin overheard an Initiate express disbelief in a frustrated tone as he shut off the vertibird’s engines from the cockpit. Curious and looking for an excuse to watch Maxson, she turned her gaze to the vertibird stationed in the maintenance bay below her.

     “I think I know what’s amiss. Allow me, soldier.” The Elder scaled the stairs of the scaffolding that leveled him with the left engine and shrugged out of his heavy battlecoat. He draped the garment over a crate by the large tool chest. Her face lit with a soft smile; It was extremely rare for anyone to see Maxson without it, and that black officer’s uniform was so strapping on him it’d be sinful to look away.

     He approached the exposed vertibird engine as the Initiate leapt out of the pilot’s seat and followed to spectate. She could see the nervousness on the young soldier’s face from here. The almighty Elder was going to lend a hand. Maxson began looking over the ‘bird’s engine, checking each component until he found what was sending the warning to the console.

     “Could you hand me a pair of needlenose rubber-coated pliers?” He asked the soldier. The young man crossed the short scaffolding they were standing on to the tool chest. He hastily opened a drawer, fetched the pliers, and handed them off to Maxson. While she watched him work she realized that he was likely a fluent mechanic. An Elder needed to be well-versed in the machinery his branch of the Brotherhood operated.  He identified a malfunctioning fuel sensor and let the Initiate take over, walking him through checking and resetting the wiring.

     “He’s always been a decent teacher, I’ll give him that. Far more patient than I am.” Proctor Ingram voiced from her left. Corrine turned her attention to the red-haired woman and wondered if she’d been staring too long, but it appeared that anyone nearby had stopped what they were doing to watch the Elder.

     “Maxson? Patient? I’m not so sure I’ve heard those two in the same sentence before.” A soft laugh rumbled from the Paladin’s throat.

     “On occasion, he is. A majority of us watched that kid grow up. ‘Latched on to Sarah Lyons when he came to the Citadel at ten. He was always at her heels when it allowed. Must have picked up mentoring from her.” The red-haired woman’s modified power armor produced a soft mechanical muttering as she stepped closer to the railing.

     “I hear that name on occasion. Sentinel Lyons. She became Elder after her father passed, and Maxson took up the mantle at sixteen.”

     “Yes. Unfortunately, Owyn Lyons got himself killed because his compassion for the Capital Wasteland was too great. His desire to focus on helping people instead of upholding the Brotherhood’s primary mission of acquiring tech caused a little unrest. But that’s over and done with.”

     The Proctor’s words gave Corrine pause. From her time in the field, she observed people who inhabited the Commonwealth were wary of the Brotherhood. They’d made little effort to improve relations with civilians. _We’re no different from the Institute if we don’t make an attempt to help, and that needs to change,_ she realized. Commoners trusted Corrine because she was an exception to the rule. She’d racked up a positive reputation prior to joining the Brotherhood of Steel, and Danse had proven himself reliable at her side.

_But now that’s all been blown to shit. Maxson wants to protect his own the best he can instead of risking his image as Elder. If he behaves too much like Owyn Lyons, then those around him might hesitate._

     “What do you think she’d say, looking at him now?” The Paladin turned her gaze from the Elder, who was now donning his coat. She heard the Initiate report that the sensors were operational when he checked the console inside the cockpit.

     “Hell if I know. Big-sister pride or something.” Ingram shrugged. “I’m off to badger and correct my underlings. Maxson will brief you on the mission to Mass Fusion at some point.”

     Corrine leaned back from the railing and watched Ingram stride away in her power armor. She had no intention of asking how the Proctor lost her legs. It was far more important that Ingram could walk and live relatively close to how she had before.

     "A little distracted are we, Paladin?” A gruff and well-articulated voice sounded from her right. Corrine realized she hadn’t been paying attention to where the Elder was headed next.

     “Yes. And I still am.” The blatant flirt left her mouth as she straightened and turned to face her superior. Maxson feigned his disapproval for a moment and crossed his arms.

     “I see. Then allow me to keep you that way. Would you join me on the Prydwen’s Foredeck?” The question came with what she thought was a smile trying to worm its way onto his face. _He’s amused. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before._

     “Of course. lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

     They sat in folding chairs beside the hatch entry to the foredeck with glasses half-full of whiskey in hand. Ashen clouds were tinged with a rosy glow and still blotting out the early evening sun. Up here, the Prydwen’s engines and propellers faded into a white noise that Corrine grew to find soothing. They were quiet for a while, merely enjoying one another’s company. For her to accept Maxson’s offer in the first place spoke volumes more than she knew.

     “I thought over what you said. I can’t just put Danse behind me and expect things to be the same as they were. I understand you’ve been met with skepticism since we discovered he was a synth. I caught several knights muttering their doubts about your        loyalties earlier today. You’ve only lied to me once, and I understand why. Your reasoning was sound.” Maxson found himself unwinding the more he talked to her. The way his words reflected in her dark eyes put him at ease. He could tell she was listening to him closely, watching his every shift in body language. A smile would softly illuminate her features now and then.

     “Are you glad you didn’t kill him after I refused to?” She asked before taking a small sip of her drink. The Elder paused in his reply and broke eye contact, glancing out over the remains of the downtown Commonwealth.

     “Yes, I am.” The admission softened his expression and she tilted her head with intrigue. _Well, that’s progress._

     “Now, why?”

     “Because Danse was a fine man. Everything you argued made sense. Human and machine weren’t meant to intertwine, but he can’t be blamed for existing. He didn’t choose to be alive, his life was handed to him. No different than a child being born, expected or not.”

     “And you’d be an ass to acknowledge one circumstance but reject the other?” Corrine affirmed.

     “Exactly as you say. And I have nearly the entire East Coast Brotherhood of Steel expecting me to uphold their doctrine and values to the letter. And history shows foundations of core beliefs almost never account for changing times, do they?” He reasoned and uncapped the bottle, pouring himself another drink.

     “No, they often don’t. Is someone fond of pre-war history?” Corrine grinned and reclined her legs up on the railing of the foredeck, downing the rest of her whisky.

     “Yes. And I noticed a pattern, particularly in areas where religion was involved. As civilization advances, religious scripture is outpaced by it. Then, there’s conflict over what’s moral and what isn’t. Civil rights, abortion, medicine, art, literature, music, homosexuality, stem cell research...” He trailed off to keep himself from rambling.

     “...And then it was all nuked to hell and we don’t have time to be worried about those things anymore. I don’t miss that.” She snickered and offered him her glass. He refilled it for her and handed it back.

     “Until the Institute progressed enough to grow past its restraint and began creating synthetic humans. And now there’s conflict. The Railroad could be a potential threat and they want to free as many synths as they can. Because of you I’m starting to see why we don’t have to position ourselves against them. But it's not going to be easy convincing the Brotherhood of that. I’m still coming to terms with it myself.” Maxson watched her tip back her glass and was trying to sort through the mess of questions in his head. There was so much he wanted to know about her, but he wouldn’t risk coming off as an eager child.

     “Alright. You’ve done well with me putting you in a tough spot. Since we’re being honest here, it’s only fair I come clean about something in return.” Corrine dipped her head a moment and let out a soft sigh. She saw his brows already knitting in an expression of concern. “Three months ago when I took that spill clearing out Roxbury Station with Danse and fractured two ribs, I developed a Med-X dependency while in recovery. After that, I started using it to cope with menstrual cramps when they were terrible enough every once in awhile so that I could keep going. Now I can’t sleep at night without taking a dose.”

     He didn’t say a word at first, trying to go back in his memory and recall any inclination she’d been using. Wherever she’d gotten the Med-X from after recovering, it hadn’t been Knight-Captain Cade, the Prydwen’s resident doctor.

     “You pushed yourself beyond your limits, Corrine. Why?” Maxson noticed the snarl in his voice and tempered it. She was being truthful with him, and he wanted to keep it that way.

     “My desire to serve made me push aside feeling unwell. I wasn't about to tell Paladin Danse I couldn’t perform just because I felt like a bunch of tiny weasels were stomping on my ovaries. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

     “An interesting picture. But now that I know this, I’m marching you to Knight-Captain Cade tomorrow morning for treatment. I understand you’re trying to trudge through and keep fighting, but all you’ll do is hurt yourself in the long run.” Maxson scolded her as gently as he could manage and she groaned lightly.

     “I know I can’t keep doing this, which is why I told you. Sooner or later you would’ve found out on your own. But I don’t want to get rid of this until the Institute goes up in flames. I’m worried I won’t be able to fight as hard if I quit now.”

     “Danse already told me that your pain tolerance was pretty high. You’re strong, Corrine. You don’t need Med-X to be a perfect warrior.”

     “Pre-War I never dealt with anything like this. I barely drank and never touched a blunt. But I can’t slow down just yet. Not when we’re this close to sending those bastards to hell.”

     Maxson was quiet for a moment. Sure, he could order her to report to the med bay and escort her there whether she liked it or not, but he had the inkling she didn’t want to take the easy way out.

     “Alright. You don’t have to see Cade, but I want you to stop taking it. If you’ve only been on it for three months, withdrawal shouldn’t last more than two weeks. Since I’m now your direct superior, you rarely need to answer to anyone but me. After you secure the beryllium agitator with Proctor Ingram, you’re off duty for a few days. Clear?” The Elder stood up and took her empty glass. He walked over to the metal crate beside the foredeck hatch and stashed the whiskey bottle away inside.

     “Fine. I guess that’s as good as it’s going to get.” She mumbled while collapsing the chairs and sliding them behind the crate. “There’s still more to discuss. The Railroad. They--”

     A sharp exhale escaped Corrine’s throat when Maxson roughly pressed her up against the hatch of the foredeck. He caught her mouth in the slow and ravenous kiss he’d been starving for. His hands firmly pinned her right shoulder and held her left arm securely in place to ensure she wouldn’t have much room to move. The Elder was a towering and imposing man, and although she was only a few inches shorter he had far more reach and strength to keep someone still.

     Her heart was racing and she was panting by the time he released her mouth. Now that he was so close to her, she could completely indulge in his subtly smoky and metallic scent. She'd only caught it in occasional wafts when they were near enough or if he walked past. Maxon drifted along her jaw and to her ear, nuzzling her wily hair and inhaling deeply.

     “We’ll talk about it later. You’re one hell of a mischievous woman, Paladin Ljónhart. And your behavior has been far too flippant. A little discipline is in order, don’t you agree?” He spoke gently, but his voice was tinged with a low growl. He pulled back enough to look at her and their eyes met in an abyssal heated gaze.

     Corrine knew exactly what she’d done. Her lips parted in a provocative smile.

     “I’m a touch confused. What constitutes flippant? You think I’m being unprofessional?” The Paladin feigned innocence and was rewarded with a smirk.

     “Bending over as you’re repairing your power armor in my line of sight while I’m trying to converse with Proctor Ingram? That pronounced sway in your hips when you walk past me? And how I can feel your eyes on my back when I’m not looking?” He knew she wanted to hear it. That he’d noticed every gesture she made to lure him in further.

     “It seems to me you enjoy every tease I direct your way, Arthur.” Corrine purred in reply. She wanted to slip her hands inside his large coat and smooth them over his back, but he still held her in place. _Might have been his plan to do this all along_ , _and I’m not complaining,_ she thought.

     “You will address your superior properly, Paladin. Or do you like being scolded?” The warning was a tantalizing threat, and they both knew it.

     “I do. In fact, I’d love to hear it more often-- _behind closed doors_.” The reply came as a taunting purr.

     “Since you’re so fond of the idea, Paladin, report to my quarters immediately. I expect to see you in no less than five minutes.”

     “Yes, sir.” The words rolled off her tongue with a sultry flavor, and he kissed her forehead before letting her go.

     The Elder unpinned her and opened the Foredeck hatch. He adjusted his coat and bade Corrine to enter first, who swiftly darted ahead down the catwalk as he followed a few steps behind. She was still savoring the taste of him on her lips and glad she wouldn’t have to go too long without another kiss.

     “Cheeky minx…” Arthur muttered affectionately, his softening blue gaze mulling over her backside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended for the cozy smut to be in this chapter, but chose to push it back to the next one. I'm looking forward to writing more and sharing the plot I've outlined so far. The Freedom Railroad will make an amusing entry. Might have worded Maxson to be a little more open minded than some would find acceptable, but hey, it's fanfiction.
> 
> Additional thanks to Willow, Tim, and Olivia for beta reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> My contribution for funsies to the Maxson & Sole Survivor ship. I’ve read oodles of headcanons about what others think or feel Maxson would be like past the professional exterior, and I incorporated some of them here. So if you see a little hint towards one that you may have posted under the Maxson tag, this is my wee tip o’ the musketeer hat to you. Thank you for your inspiration!
> 
> I wanted to explore the more human side of Maxson. He’s a young man who never experienced much of a childhood. Someone who’s possibly in possession of deep thoughts from what I gleaned of his terminal entries in Fallout 3. A reader, writer, and lover of history. And he could have been far more shaken from learning Paladin Danse was a synth than we think. A man who seemed so real, that was real, may or may not have made Arthur feel conflicted.
> 
> I wanted to give anyone interested in this a fun and saucy experience for them to read. The next chapter gets very frisky with consent, communication, and play. I’m well aware there are people who have expressed their dislike that a majority of Maxson fans are only pairing him with females. Heteronormative. No, it's not that I don’t think Maxson could be any other sexuality. He very much has the ability to be. The story just happened this way. I had an idea and expanded on it, simple as that. Corrine came first. I fell in love with the character I made, and then I grew extremely fond of Maxson the more I played the game. Boop, this spawned from my brain. 
> 
> If you have any questions about this little story, I’m happy to answer them in my askbox at nyriad-nsfw.tumblr.com. Don't be too shy, I'm a Pirate Weasel who loves to chitter chatter over booze and spiked hot tea.
> 
> A special thanks to Willow, Luke, Tim, and Olivia for reading my work before I posted it. Also, to a very patient fiancé who tolerates my fascination with Arthur Maxson.


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